


You Don't Always Get What You Want (but I'll give you what you need)

by TheAccountOfShame



Series: Give It Up [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Dom!Shoma, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Scratching, Sub!Yuzu, use of a riding crop, whipping?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAccountOfShame/pseuds/TheAccountOfShame
Summary: “I don’t know. I think you could make it so I still can’t sit by the weekend,” Yuzuru said, encouraging. His eyes were shining and playful even though the picture quality of their video call was poor.Shoma had bit his lip. “I can try.”





	You Don't Always Get What You Want (but I'll give you what you need)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mistake omg why did i write this

Shoma walks around the bed. His eyes locked on Yuzuru. On his hands and knees. Waiting.

He takes in the expanse of pale skin, the roundness of Yuzuru’s ass high in the air, the length of his thighs, the curve of his back. Shoma doesn’t touch, even though he wants to. It was always more fun to test Yuzuru’s patience and see him get desperate.

It feels different to have Yuzuru in his apartment, Shoma thinks. They had spent so much time together in hotel rooms in different cities and foreign countries. Their entire relationship up to now had been the limits of what they could get away with after competitions and the full extent of what was possible over webcam. Being at home and having Yuzuru in his space made everything feel more real somehow.   
  


Shoma is excited to have him here, and he knows Yuzuru is too because there was a ring at his doorbell a full hour before Yuzuru was supposed to arrive.   
  


“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Yuzuru explained. Shoma had smiled.   
  


Shoma had known that would happen - that Yuzuru would be too eager and impatient. He had prepared for it. But he hadn’t been ready for the swoop of his stomach as he opens the door and lets Yuzuru in - with his little weekend bag and a beaming smile. It hit Shoma hard just how much he has missed him.   
  


“I missed you,” Shoma said softly, wrapping his arms around Yuzuru’s waist and pressing his face into his neck.   
  


He lifted himself onto his toes and pressed his lips to Yuzuru’s. A chaste kiss, just a little hello. But Yuzuru wanted more than just a peck. Shoma indulged for a moment, letting his eyes fall shut and parting his lips. He shivered from the way Yuzuru shyly flicked at Shoma’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, trying to coax Shoma into slipping his tongue into Yuzuru’s mouth and kissing him the way he desired.

He didn’t let Yuzuru rush him, even if it would’ve been all too easy. The whole point was that Yuzuru didn’t call all the shots.   
  


Shoma had pulled away and redirected their focus towards little, banal things; finding a space for Yuzuru’s bag, leading him into the living room and offering a drink. Yuzuru arrived an hour early, so they had an hour to just be  _ themselves _ . Shoma needed this sometimes - some time to reconnect whenever they met after some time apart. He found it hard to keep the concept of their relationship stable when they weren’t together. He needed time to re-establish that everything between them still existed and was still real even after some time of being out of sight.   
  


He knew it was real now. He had been the one to ask if Yuzuru was ready - after waiting for Yuzuru to settle and feel comfortable in the new environment of Shoma’s home, less prone to rush. He had been the one to lead Yuzuru into the bedroom, to strip him and kiss him and work him up.   
  


Now Yuzuru was on his bed, poised on his hands and knees. Waiting for him just a little bit longer.   
  


This wasn’t like last time when Shoma had guessed what Yuzuru needed, and everything had been improvised. That they could even read off each other and slip into their roles without preparation like that was a testament to how much closer they were compared to when this had started. They could never have done that even a few months ago.   
  


This was different; it was something Yuzuru had asked for, something that required some time to prepare for, at least in planning out, when Yuzuru would come over and make sure he would have enough time to heal up. The last thing Shoma wanted was Yuzuru going back to training and falling on bruised and tender thighs.   
  


“I won’t be jumping for a couple of weeks.” Yuzuru shrugged. “But it might be funny - trying not to wince at the Emperor's garden party thing if I sit down.”   
  


Shoma had laughed, “I don’t think you’ll still be sore after a week? But you might still have bruises.”   
  


“I don’t know. I think you could make it so I still can’t sit by the weekend,” Yuzuru said, encouraging. His eyes were shining and playful even though the picture quality of their video call was poor. Nothing ever compared to having Yuzuru actually there.   
  


Shoma had bit his lip. “I can try.”

 

The idea sent heat flooding through him. Yuzuru waving at crowds, bowing to the Emperor, all while beneath the thin material of his pants he was covered in purple, blue and green. It brought out the little possessive streak Shoma had. It wasn’t one that led itself to jealousy - Shoma trusted Yuzuru too much to ever, really, be jealous - but he got a kick out of seeing people around Yuzuru, knowing that Shoma’s claim was all over him in some form.   
  


It makes him eager to mark up Yuzuru in every way, as much as he could get away with. With his mouth, his teeth, with the tool in his hands…   
  


He toys with the whip as he makes his way to the head of the bed. It wasn’t so much a whip as it was a crop, with a curved handle, weaved leather up the thin shaft and a wide loop at the end instead of a lash. A whip with a lash felt like too much for Shoma since he didn’t want to break Yuzuru’s skin. A crop felt more manageable.

Yuzuru enjoyed being spanked, liked it when Shoma used a hand or a paddle. It didn’t surprise him at all that Yuzuru would be interested in trying this too.   
  


Shoma used to wonder if there was more to Yuzuru craving pain or if it was a punishment thing. It was hard not to notice that some of Yuzuru’s more...negative behaviours reduced around the time they started doing this. The overtraining, the pushing himself to skate when sick or injured. Shoma wondered if this was some weird replacement for that. He worried that this was all some self-destructive impulse to self-harm, rather than...something more positive.   
  


“I don’t think so,” Yuzuru shook his head, after thinking about it for a while, when Shoma had brought it up. He gave his reasoning for it - it wasn’t something he always asked for, it wasn’t something he always needed. It wasn’t as if every time they had sex or were otherwise physical with each other - affectionately or sexually - they had to be dominant or submissive. And he didn’t think he ever sought it out in response to anything in particular. He overtrained because he was stressed, under a lot of pressure, struggling with guilt and had little else in his life. He stopped because he got injured and nearly lost everything.   
  


“This is something I’ve wanted for a while, but you’re the only one to give it to me.” Yuzuru had crawled into Shoma’s lap by this point, kissing the tip of his nose softly. “There’s probably loads of reasons but, honestly...It just feels so good.” He leant forward and whispered in Shoma’s ear, all the things he loved Shoma doing to him until Shoma was flushed and flustered and entirely convinced.   
  


Shoma reaches out with the crop and tucks the tongue beneath Yuzuru’s chin, urging him to look up. He holds up the crop for Yuzuru to look at.

“Do you like it?”   
  


Yuzuru nods and runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “It’s pretty.” His eyes flicker up to Shoma’s face, dark and flirty.  “You look sexy with it in your hands.”   
  


Shoma smiles. He needed to see Yuzuru’s face before they went ahead with anything to make sure he was excited and not afraid, engaged and not zoning out. He was always careful when they were doing something like this. There were times they had discussed it beforehand, but then Yuzuru had changed his mind at the last minute. They both needed to be in the right mental place. It had to be fun, not something they were dreading.   
  


Shoma runs the crop over Yuzuru’s shoulder, using it to follow the arch of his spine, the swell of his ass. Yuzuru is so beautiful like this. His body is a contradiction - long and lean, all hard muscle and incredibly slim but also, somehow, lush with full curves.

Shoma lightly drags the crop down to tap at the inside of his thighs, silently instructing to spread them a little wider. He lets out a shaky breath when Yuzuru does just that. He’s stunning all the time, but Shoma’s the only one who gets to see him like this. He wants to lean forward and tease Yuzuru with his mouth - kiss his hips, his thighs, drag his lips over the curve of his ass and dig his fingers into the opposite cheek. But he doesn’t, for now, because it will feel so much better when the skin there is hot, red and tender.   
  


It had taken them a while to get to this point. Shoma was shy, so growing closer as friends had been a slow process. They had kissed at a summer ice show when Shoma was still eighteen and Yuzuru still felt weird about it. But it happened again, and again. Then they had started to fool around, getting closer, touching each other without knowing where their relationship was going. Yuzuru dropped hints, asked little things that got him close to what he needed - to pull on his hair, to hold him down.

Shoma would do anything, within reason, to make Yuzuru happy but he enjoyed it as much as Yuzuru did - telling him what to do, being a little rough, fucking him hard. He liked the thrill of taking charge. He loved breaking Yuzuru down, seeing him at his most vulnerable. He loved being the one he relied on. The intimacy that came with it. The more Shoma got into it, the more Yuzuru felt comfortable asking for more.

 

He still remembered the first time he had owned the role that Yuzuru gave him; when he had confidently given an order without even thinking about it. It happened when it maybe should have - in the bedroom when they both agreed to it. It had happened backstage after a gala. Yuzuru had been struggling with his zipper and was about to turn and ask some to help him - maybe Javier, maybe one of the Chinese skaters. Shoma didn’t want that at all.   
  


“No,” Shoma told him without thinking. “Come here.”   
  


Yuzuru had paused, and it was immediately obvious that he was turned on by it. He went. Shoma opened the zipper and helped to peel the fabric off Yuzuru’s body.

He asked about it later. Why Yuzuru liked it so much when Shoma bossed him around.   
  


“It’s something about you,” Yuzuru had purred. “You’re cute when you’re shy and stuff, but when you know what you want, and you’re confident, and you’re telling me what to do…” He bit his lip, eyes darkening just thinking about it. “You’re so sexy like that.”

 

Shoma likes the image of himself that Yuzuru sees, so different than the lost little boy everyone else seemed to see. And really, it made sense that Yuzuru would crave that. Yuzuru is so dominant in his everyday life, so controlling, such a perfectionist. In competitions, in training, in school. It gets tiring. It’s understandable that what he craves is to give up that control. Have Shoma take it.   
  


Shoma draws back the crop and gives Yuzuru a taste of it. Not hard, just a practice swipe, barely enough to make Yuzuru’s breath hitch. More of a tease than anything else. It gave Shoma a better idea of how to direct where the crop would land.

Shoma had practised, aiming to be able to wield it comfortably before it went anywhere near Yuzuru’s skin. He had used it on himself, hitting his own thighs with different levels of force and trying to gauge what would be too much for Yuzuru, and what would be not enough.

There had been times when Shoma found it hard to tell. When they first started trying these things. More than once, Shoma had to stop because he found Yuzuru’s wails and tears distressing and wasn’t sure if Yuzuru was still into it. There had been times Yuzuru had stopped him too - when something felt off or wasn’t going the way he expected or simply because his mood had shifted. There wasn’t much that they had tried that Yuzuru was opposed to, so long as he was in the right mental place for it. Except fisting. Though Shoma would admit he wasn't sure if he had been doing it right.   
  


Shoma didn’t regret moments like that; when they were new to this and learning each other’s boundaries, figuring out each other’s needs. Shoma needed communication - so knowing that Yuzuru would stop him if he wasn't enjoying himself was important. Yuzuru needed to feel safe, so knowing that Shoma would immediately stop if told to was vital.   
  


Shoma takes a breath and with a flick of his wrist gives the first real kiss of the crop’s leather tongue against the milky skin where ass meets thigh. A small patch of pink blooms where the crop had landed. That mark wouldn’t stay for long. Not without extra attention.   
  


The next one, though, is harder. Yuzuru yelps.   
  


Over his ass, on the back of his thighs. Sounds fill the room; the whistle as the crop cuts through the air and the hard slap of it meeting the skin. The squeaks and sighs from Yuzuru that follow.   
  


The point of contact was so much smaller than Shoma’s hand, so instead of seeing large expanses of skin turn red and raw, Shoma instead sees rosettes of pinks and red blossom across Yuzuru’s skin. The thrill is never in the act of striking Yuzuru; it’s always in how he responds. The way he gasps, whines high in his throat. His back arching into it, thighs trembling, fingers digging into the bed sheets white-knuckled. Shoma loves hearing him - choking back a sob, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain, body tight and unsure of whether to flinch away or seek out more. Yuzuru was greedy; he almost always sought out more - whimpering as he lifts his ass even higher into the air, widening his legs further to allow access to the sensitive areas at the top of his legs.

He had wanted to feel this for a week, to be doing his formal events with bruises beneath his slacks and an ache when he sits. Shoma sticks to his word and gives it his best try without pushing Yuzuru too far.   
  


Yuzuru is so gorgeous like this - head hung between hunched shoulders, biting his lip so hard it almost bleeds only to let the poor bottom lip slide free, mouth gaping when he’s struck again. His eyes squeeze shut, and he keens from the intensity of the sensation. Not shy at all in how he’s stretched out, ass presenting, legs spread and nothing hidden. It’s beautiful to Shoma. Whenever he thinks he couldn’t possibly want Yuzuru any more than he already does, the feeling grows just a little bit bigger.   
  


Arousal grips Shoma tightly faster than the blood can rise to the surface of Yuzuru’s skin. It only grows. He burns with it.   
  


Shoma reaches out, smoothing his hand over a well-reddened patch of skin, feeling the heat from it. Yuzuru groans, breath ragged and arms shaking. His whole body is flush from arousal and glimmering with sweat. He looks as if he were hand-crafted by the Gods to be the most tempting being on the planet.   
  


“Are you okay?” Shoma asks. Yuzuru nods silently. Shoma lets his hand drift lower. He presses his thumb along the crease of Yuzuru's ass, down along his perineum, fingertips reaching to feel the length of Yuzuru's cock. Not fully erect, but perky enough.   
  


Shoma pulls his hand away and moves, coming forward to catch Yuzuru by the chin and force him to look up. There are tears clinging to his eyelashes, but they haven’t been shed yet. He hates seeing Yuzuru cry but knows it doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying it. “Can you take more?”   
  


Yuzuru hums in affirmation, unable to speak. The sound is desperate and quivering. Shoma merely nods, slides a hand into Yuzuru’s hair and leans forward to kiss his lips- puffy and red from his teeth. Yuzuru parts his lips, letting Shoma lick into his mouth with no resistance, moaning at the flicker of tongue against his own. It’s short, but it’s hot and messy, and everything Shoma needed. Extra confirmation that Yuzuru is there with him. Wanting.   
  


Shoma focuses on the thighs more this time. Layering over areas he’s already hit and seeking out more sensitive patches to light up with a fiery burn. Shoma hit the crease right below the ass cheek hard. The edge of the tongue left an angry welt in its wake. Yuzuru cries out.   
  


“ _ Please _ ! Please! Again-”   
  


Shoma chews on his lip and hits again, crop singing on the downswing. The raw, broken sound Yuzuru makes upon contact and the way he scrambles, arms almost buckling beneath him, is the hottest thing Shoma has ever witnessed.   
  


“Shoma.  _ Please _ , please,” Yuzuru babbles, breathless, hiccupping a sob. The tears are little more than a reflex. The frantic begging for Shoma to touch, to kiss and fuck is what he focuses on. That’s what makes his dick jump in his jeans and his whole body heat. He drops the crop and crawls onto the bed behind Yuzuru. His touch against Yuzuru’s skin isn’t gentle and soothing now. That isn’t what Yuzuru wants or needs.    
  
Instead, Shoma’s hands roughly squeeze Yuzuru’s ass, fingers digging in, massaging harshly to encourage bruises to form. Yuzuru moans, arms finally collapsing beneath him. Shoma wraps an arm around Yuzuru’s waist and pulls him closer, rocking his clothed erection against Yuzuru’s thigh. The sensation of rough denim against delicate, sensitive skin makes Yuzuru shudder and groan. He pushes his ass back into Shoma. Shoma closes his eyes, taking a moment to indulge and rut against Yuzuru’s thighs, drinking in the sound of raspy, uneven breaths and tiny, high moans.

Shoma forces himself back to throw his shirt on the floor and get his jeans and underwear off his body as fast as he possibly can. Then he gets his hands on Yuzuru’s hips and flips him onto his back.   
  


Yuzuru seems surprised by this, sucking in a sharp intake of breath before his back hits the mattress. But he spreads his legs for Shoma to settle between them, raising his knees so Shoma can get his hand on the on them.   
  


He’s hard, cock curving up to his belly and damp at the head. Chest heaving, nipples dusky pink and peaked in arousal. Eyes dark, glazed. Yuzuru’s mouth was made for sin at the best of times, and now it seemed to beg for it. Lips red and full, swollen from the way he’d been biting them. Hair unruly, Flush creeping up his chest and neck.

No one, not a single living human being, could look at Yuzuru like this and be able to resist him. It never got old for Shoma, to look at Yuzuru so debauched and desperate, and know that he could do  _ everything  _ he wants to.   
  


Shoma dips his head down, mouth finding a home high on the inside of Yuzuru’s thigh. Where the skin is soft and still creamy and unmarred. Not for long. Shoma sucks on the delicate skin there and runs his teeth over the spot.

Yuzuru loves being marked. Especially in places where he can look later and admire them - Shoma had caught him more than once twisting to look back at the mirror to see bruises on his backside or welts over his shoulders, back, hips that Shoma had left behind from his nails. Bites on his hips and belly, scratches...Yuzuru would gaze at them, stroke his fingers over them, press into the discoloured skin to feel the twinge of pain they gave him.   
  


“It’s like you left your signature all over me,” Yuzuru explained, one of the times Shoma caught him doing it. “If anyone else saw them they’d know I’m yours.”   
  


Yuzuru was always receptive when Shoma left those marks for him, but he was especially so after the lashes had left him so raw. Shoma dug his nails into the flesh back on the top of his thighs and slowly dragged them down right to the crease of his knee. He sucked and bit and licked the inside of his thighs, trailing bruises up to his hips. Yuzuru moans, he keens, he gasps and hisses and whimpers. His head thrashes to the side, his back arching off the bed, his toes curling against the mattress.

Yuzuru had been good. He had taken the lashes so well. He deserves to come. He deserves to come down Shoma’s throat.   
  


Shoma’s eyes close and the first taste of Yuzuru against his tongue. He wasn’t always good at this, but Yuzuru was patient, and practice makes perfect. It wasn’t exactly a chore for Yuzuru to be Shoma’s study partner in this regard. Now he knows how to get Yuzuru off fast if he wants to. But also how to drag it out, tease him, drag it out and slowly build him up. So when Yuzuru  _ does  _ come, his eyes roll back into his head and his bones shake from it.   
  


He swirls his tongue around the high, lightly fluttering where the foreskin had drawn back, loving the way that Yuzuru squirms and struggles not to buck his hips at that. Shoma licks broad strokes down the length of him, lips brushing at the base, straying lower before doubling back.   
  


When Shoma takes Yuzuru into his mouth, he melts into the bed and moans - long and loud and broken. Shoma looks up through his lashes at Yuzuru’s writhing body. One hand buried in his own hair, pulling on the strands instead of tugging on Shoma’s. His other hand on his chest, fingers flexing with the same rhythm as Shoma’s tongue. Shoma drops his mouth, relaxing his throat to take more of Yuzuru in. He grips Yuzuru’s hips hard, sucking as he moves back up, and lowers his mouth back down.   
  


“ _ Shoma _ ,” Yuzuru groans, breathless. Shoma feels the twitching of Yuzuru’s muscles, the way they strain in effort to stop from thrusting into Shoma’s mouth.  He feels the head of his own cock rub against the bedsheets and moans around Yuzuru. He would have to let go of Yuzuru’s lips to touch himself, so this would have to do. For now. 

Shoma drops his mouth back down faster, sucks harder, drags his lips back up slower, grips his hips tighter.   
  


The sound Yuzuru makes is indescribable. And he keeps making it - needy and rising when Shoma takes him in deep and  _ swallows _ .   
  


Yuzuru comes, salty and sweet on Shoma’s tongue. He swallows again. Yuzuru makes a punched-out sound, getting himself up on his elbows to look down at Shoma with glazed eyes. Shoma pulls off him, lips lingering at the head, tongue chasing the last drops of Yuzuru’s orgasm. He gives into the need to touch himself and moans at the feeling, taking his mouth away from Yuzuru’s still-twitching cock, eyelashes fluttering in relief.   
  


He sits back on his haunches between Yuzuru’s legs and rubs his thumb against the bead on his cock.   
  


“Can I help you?” Yuzuru asks. His voice is rough.   
  


“Turn over,” Shoma tells him tightly. “On your knees again.”   
  


Yuzuru does as he is told, albeit shakily. Shoma reaches for the lube they had prepared on the bedside table and pumped it out onto his hand. First to coat the inside of Yuzuru’s thighs, then to stroke over himself.   
  


“Legs together,” Shoma instructs. Yuzuru obeys, positioning himself much like he was before - with his ass up high and back arched. But this time it was to give Shoma a better fit when he slid his erection between his legs until his hips were flush against his ass.   
  


Yuzuru’s skin is still red and hot to the touch. Hypersensitive, judging from the choppiness of Yuzuru’s breath as Shoma rocks between them.   
  


The feeling is divine. The soft silkiness of Yuzuru’s skin with the firmness of muscle that rests beneath. Shoma lets his head fall back, eyes closed, lips parted. He holds Yuzuru tight and trusts forwards, groaning at the friction he has waited for. Yuzuru pushes his legs together tighter, and rocks himself back in time with Shoma’s thrusts.   
  


It’s so much. Too much. The pleasure that flares up and spreads over Shoma’s body. The sounds he can’t hold back, the edge to Yuzuru's breathing, the lushness of Yuzuru’s body. He’s so into it - so full of want, so ready to give Shoma what he needs, so willing to have Shoma use him. That’s it. That does it.  Shoma moves his hips, hard and fast, fucking between Yuzuru’s thighs with abandon.   
  


His orgasm builds at the pit of his stomach and careens through him. He pulls back, just in time to give his cock little more than a few tugs before he comes over the back of Yuzuru’s thighs and ass.   
  


Yuzuru is trembling. Shoma pants and stares at the picture-perfect image of Yuzuru’s backside. There are already areas where red marks have started to turn purple. Lines from his fingernails crisscrossing, bite marks, welts from the crop. It’s a lot.   
  


***   
  


“You’re dribbling,” Shoma laughs fondly. His thumb catches the ice cream from the side of Yuzuru’s mouth before it can reach his chin. Yuzuru smiles up at him.   
  


They are curled up on the sofa together - wrapped up in the fuzziest, softest blanket Shoma could find. Yuzuru’s choice of movie is on, a bowl of strawberries on the coffee table and a tub of ice cream balancing on Shoma’s knee so he can scoop it into Yuzuru’s mouth whenever required.   
  


“Strawberry,” Yuzuru demands cheekily, opening his mouth so Shoma can pop one right in.   
  


These are the moments Shoma loved the most. The come down after the intensity. When they need to cuddle together. When it’s Shoma’s turn to care for Yuzuru, bathe him, put cream on sore limbs and dote upon him.   
  


Yuzuru took care of Shoma so much. Looking out for him at competitions, helping him in media events, making him laugh at practices. Shoma liked repaying him, caring for him. And now they had a whole weekend for it.

  
  


 


End file.
